


For Queen and Country

by tersa (alix)



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/3486.html?thread=12636830#t12636830">Prompt</a>:</p><ul><i>“I want to read Alistair's POV as he finds himself with  the duty of sleeping with his wife. He is not a virgin, and he still is completely in love with the F!Warden (Cousland or Amell if possible), but even though she is alive, they can't ever be together again. He is heartbroken because she left right after slaying the archdemon and being named Warden Commander, and he feels guilty at the same time because he was the one to tell her they couldn't be together because she wasn't able to give him children.</i>

<i>Here's the catch: Feeling as he feels, Alistair is either unable to perform or he is able to perform but completely hates himself during the act and afterwards too.</i>

<i>Basically, he had only slept with a woman he loved. And he will never love Anora.</i>

<i>So there is supposed to be a lot of angst in here, may be a little self-loathing. What I really want is to read Alistair's thoughts as he can't perform his duty, and when/if he manages, then he hates himself during and after.”</i>
</ul><p>Due to another prompt made around the same time, 'wife' became Anora. f!Warden is Elissa Cousland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Queen and Country

**  
_Dragon Age: Origins--Post Game_   
**

Alistair had been dreading this night.

They’d been married for weeks. Months, even. He’d claimed at first it was too soon, that he wanted to give her time to grieve for her father ( _and he couldn’t, not yet, not with the memory of Elissa so fresh, the wound from losing her so raw_ ), and then that there was too much to do, learning how to be King and getting the country in order after the civil war and the Blight were over, then there had been that problem in the Bannorn they’d traveled out to settle, sleeping in strange beds and stranger manor houses and he didn’t feel right when there were people just outside the door, possibly listening ( _never mind that there had been only a thin canvas tent between them and their companions_ ).

He'd had to do it once before, because she'd asked, and had liked it no better then.

Anora stood in the doorway of his bedchamber, a blue robe belted over a simple white sleeping shift, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him. “It’s time.”

“I don’t think tonight is good,” he said. “I think I’m feeling a bit of a dizzy spell coming on.”

“You said that last week.”

“Oh, I did? Well, it’s happening again. Maybe I need to see Wynne…”

“Wynne is sleeping. And told me that she’s weary of you waking her up for every minor complaint you have, and that you should let her sleep.”

“She did, did she,” he said, making a moue. “Well, then I guess I’ll just need to grin and bear it and sleep it off. Good night.” He rolled over and shut his eyes.

Footsteps sounded, crossing the floor, and she sat heavily on the other side of the bed. “You have been putting this off long enough, _my lord_.” She was capable of putting a good amount of sneer into that honorific, just by her tone. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

His back stiffened at the implied insult. “No. I’m not Cailan, thanks.”

“Cailan was a terrible ruler and a womanizer, but he at least did his duty in the marital bed. Which is more than I can say for you,” she added tartly.

“Look, I’m willing to just say we did it, and get on with our lives.”

“Saying it will not make children.”

He sighed and turned over, hitching himself up on the bed to face her on at least semi-equal footing. The fact that he was naked under the sheets did not help him in that regards. “I’m trying, Anora. Really I am. But sleeping with you is up there in the things I never wanted to experience, along with a worldwide cheese shortage.”

Her eyes narrowed at his flippancy. “I am tired of your temporizing. If you do not do your duty and try to beget heirs on me, I will do everything in my power to nullify this marriage, which will throw the succession issue into disarray once more. And wouldn’t that upset Arl Eamon and dear Elissa, after all the trouble they went through to marry us off and put you on the throne.”

Anger evaporated his sarcasm. “If you want me to do this, you’ll not mention her name in this room.”

“Agreed,” she said swiftly, leaving him suddenly wondering if he _had_ agreed to something…maybe he had. But she was continuing, “Then what will it take for you to do it?”

“I…” he trailed off and flushed uncomfortably. This wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with her. Ever. “I don’t know.”

“Are you a virgin?”

He startled. “What? No!”

Her expression turned speculative, and he suddenly knew what a plump little mouse felt like being eyed by a very hungry cat. He looked away from her. She said, “But you’re…inexperienced.”

His mouth twisted. “Maybe.”

“Ahhh,” she said in understanding. “Close your eyes.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

Exasperation tinged her sigh, but patience her tone when she said, “I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” he grumbled.

“You don’t want to do this at all,” she corrected, “which leads us back to where we began, of dissolving this marriage and disappointing your uncle and the Warden-Commander.” He glared at her, and she shrugged. “I didn’t say her name.”

“Her title, either, then.”

“Fine. Now, will you close your eyes? It’s not like I want to do this, either.”

“Gee, that makes me feel better.”

“Would you rather I told you you were handsome, brave, charming, and I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you?”

“I…yes. No, not really,” he said.

She laughed. He had to admit she had a nice laugh, musical and throaty, but—no, he wasn’t going there. “Good, because I don’t want to lie to you, Alistair. Now lay back, and close your eyes.”

There was a note of command in her voice. Elissa used to sound like that sometimes, usually when she was dealing with Dalish blood mage Keepers or backstabbing Dwarven claimants or Knight-Commanders who wouldn’t get out of her way. Sometimes in their bedroll, and he’d liked that. _“Close your eyes and tell me where you want me to touch you.”_ He blushed to remember it, laying down as Anora had requested and closing his eyes. He covered his discomfort with, “You’re not going to turn into a dragon and eat me now, are you?”

“No,” she said so softly, he struggled to hear it. He felt the mattress shift and the sheets rumple as she re-positioned herself next to him, but thankfully did not touch him. Her voice, when it sounded again, was nearer his ear, rich and low. “Imagine being with her.”

 _Her breath on his ear, warm and damp, the warning before the tip of her tongue would taste the shell._ “I’d rather not,” he replied.

“Do it,” she said quietly. “Pretend I’m not even here. Think about all those things you do in the deepest night, when you’re aroused and need relief.”

 _Her body, the shadowy curves of muscle in arms and legs when she walked, unashamed, across the clearing from the pool, the dark aureoles of her breast and the curls between her thighs wet and sleek from her bath, water running in rivulets down her scarred skin._ He felt himself stir, then shamed at the reaction. “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he said with irritation.

“How do you think it makes me feel to know you have to imagine being with another woman to do this?”

“Horrible, I hope.”

Her voice went flat. “Can you think of anything else that would work?”

He growled in frustration. “No.”

“Then keep doing it. I can tell it’s working.”

“I don’t want to know how,” he muttered.

She didn’t reply, which he was glad for, because it was bad enough he knew she was in the bed with him, could hear her breathing and feel her warmth seeping through the blankets.

He had to do this. Had to. Elissa had made him king, because she believed in him.

_”You have to do it to balance Anora out. She’s all brains and no heart. You have to be Ferelden’s heart.” She’d put her hand over his chest, fingertips tangling in his chest hair and tugging, prickling the spot._

He knew he’d have to do this someday, sleep with Anora, make heirs.

_”I can’t be with you, anymore, you understand? You can’t have my children, and they’ll expect that of me.”_

They hadn’t told him how difficult it would be to sleep with a woman he didn’t love. Wasn’t even sure he _liked_.

_”I found this in Lothering. It reminded me of you.”_

_A rose tucked behind her ear, blood-red vivid against the dark backdrop of her hair, cascading loose around her bare shoulders, burnished in the light of the lantern. Holding her in his arms that first time, the incredible feel of sliding into her. Lightning struck, just like the Chantry Mother had warned him._

“Touch yourself, if it helps,” Anora murmured.

“Just…stop talking,” he said through his teeth. He lifted a hand to lie across his belly, just under his ribs, then slid it down, the simultaneous sensation of the hair being stirred with the hair rough against his palm causing gooseflesh to spring up everywhere.

_Elissa’s mouth, kissing a path down his belly._

A finger dipped in his navel.

_Her tongue filling the divot, sending a jolt down his shaft_

He felt it again, the sudden flush as his prick swelled, pressing against the weight of the bedclothes like a second caress. His breathing quickened, and he focused on that, trying to shut out the sound of Anora’s.

_Lower, reaching the taut skin over the pubic bone._

His hand was so close, could feel the heat from the enlarging organ.

_Pulling away, the delicious uncertainty of anticipation, not knowing what she would do next._

Blindly, he reached over and found Anora’s shoulder, pushing down on it until she responded and moved down his body. A hand snarling in her hair, he guided her to his cock.

_The shock of her lips closing over the head, tongue swirling around the shaft._

Anora took him in her mouth and he hissed, going hard. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her head with his other hand and kept her there.

_Inch by agonizing inch, she slid down, throat muscles working to take more and more of him in._

He was encased, warm breaths stirring the hair on his thighs, a moaning hum reverberating down the length into his groin, and he shuddered. Her hand found his balls and caressed them, and he groaned.

_”Elissa.”_

His hips came up off the mattress, pushing into her. Her mouth pulled back off his cock, then taking him in again.

_”Elissa.”_

Her thumb continued to fondle his sack, but her fingers slid down, down, around, into the crack of his buttocks and a peculiar shiver went through him until she found the puckered flesh of the opening and pressed.

_”Oh, Maker, Elissa.”_

He was panting. He was leaking. He could feel the warmth trickling out of his cock, into the wetness of her mouth.

_”I want to be inside of you,” he moaned, and she’d pulled off of him, smiling. She'd rubbed her cheek against his erection, mewling like a cat in heat, her hair spilling around it like a thousand silken strands, setting him afire._

He pulled the mouth off of him and tugged, drawing her up until he could find her waist, directing her by touch into position.

_She straddled him, her lean, battle-hardened legs pressing against his hips, the feel of the muscles sliding under the skin, against his skin. The tip of his manhood as it found her opening, that initial kiss._

His cock dragged against the wet folds of her, trying to find it, and her hands touched him in a shock to guide him into place.

For a moment, he faltered. It didn’t sound right, didn’t smell right, didn’t feel right. She made no sound, except her accelerated breathing ( _Elissa, the sigh she always made as he slid into her, the hitch to her breath at the first push_ ), she wasn’t wet enough ( _so wet, so ready for him_ ). He gritted his teeth ( _she'd made him do this_ ), and Anora covered him. His body betrayed him. His hips lifted, straining to delve deeper, and his mind fled back to his memories to escape the reality.

_Her whimpers, the tiny little need-edged whine to the sound as she rode him, harder, faster._

“Elissa.”

_Her breasts in his hands_

They were too big. He opened his hands and circled the nipples with just his palms, an erotic flush coursing down his arms at the feel of the hard nubs against the skin.

_Gasping, the hard arch in her back as she tilted her hips, taking even more of him in_

Hands sliding down her belly

_Grasping her waist, anchoring himself, as need overtook care, and he drove himself into her_

Moaning as the pressure built, approaching pain

_Until it was too much and he came, a release that had him crying out_

“Elissa!”

_jetting his hot seed into her, filling her, and she was past thrusting, her body quivering as waves of pleasure rippled down his cock, knowing she had found ecstasy in his arms._

He collapsed back on the bed panting, his eyes still closed, shaking in the aftermath of orgasm. Awareness of what he’d done slammed into him, followed hard by loathing. He clenched his jaw closed, breathing hard through his nose, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed. He didn’t open them when Anora pulled off of him, nor when she climbed out of the bed.

“This will all be worth it if a child comes of it,” she said, as gentle as he’d ever heard her.

The door closed behind her before he let the bitter, hopeless laughter escape.


End file.
